The High King's Tomb

to the cerulean sea,

home to Avrath,

the Shining Land?”

When he stopped, it was like being dropped out of a dream. The song was a lament and saddened Karigan, but it held great beauty in its mourning.

“I haven’t heard that one before,” Estral said, breaking the spell of the song.

“I shouldn’t think so,” Lord Fiori murmured. “I have heard it sung among the Eletians, and this is but a rough translation.”

“What is this Shining Land?” Rendle asked. “This Avrath?”

Lord Fiori rose to toss another log on the fire. “It is,” he said, “their highest spiritual place, the place from whence they came and to where they aspire to return. Or so I gather.”

“Like the heavens,” Rendle said.

The fire hissed and sparked as it consumed the new log. Lord Fiori returned to his chair and spread his long legs before him. “Perhaps that is so, but I do not know. It may be a physical place, or a layer of the world. It may even be a state of mind. I do know the Eletians believe their presence on Earth is a time of exile.”

Exile. Karigan turned that over in her mind. Hadn’t the Eletians always dwelled here? If it were a literal exile from a place called Avrath, maybe the divisions among the Eletians went deeper than anyone could imagine. What would cause them to be exiled from their “Shining Land?” And why were some of them so adamant about cleansing this land of mortals? To re-create Avrath on Earth? She yawned and thought the late hour was leading her to unlikely conclusions.

“I assume it is not by chance that one of the king’s own messengers is here in Selium,” Lord Fiori said, gazing at her.

“No, sir. I’ve a message from the king.” She patted the message satchel at her side. She had not been willing to leave it unattended at the Guesting House. She removed the message and passed it to Lord Fiori.

He raised his eyebrows. “Addressed in the king’s own hand—I recognize his scrawl. I trust this will require a response.” He glanced up at Karigan. “Seek me out tomorrow.” When the campus bell rang out the early morning hour, he amended, with a smile, “Later today.”

Karigan took that as a dismissal and she was more than ready for her bed. She walked out with Master Rendle and he said, “Good fight. Too bad about the table.”

He went off in his own direction with a hearty chuckle trailing behind him. Karigan smiled and shook her head. It had turned into an interesting evening, and she had much to think about, not the least of which was her technique with the poker.

INTO THE ARCHIVES

Karigan arose from bed much later than she intended, but it couldn’t be helped. After she made it back to her room in the small hours, it was a long time before she was able to sleep with all the chatter in her brain about thieves of documents and Eletians camped outside the gates of Sacor City. She had gone over everything Lord Fiori said again and again, but no great revelations had come of it; her mind was too busy just trying to sort it all out.

When she could no longer ignore the sunshine glaring through her window, she dragged herself out of bed and ate a late breakfast alone in the common room. The angle of the sun and the campus bell told her she’d let most of the morning slip by. The Guesting House staff were busy in the kitchen preparing the midday meal.

It took her some time to track down Lord Fiori, for he wasn’t home, nor was he in his office in the administration building. A helpful clerk suggested she check the archives, which were located in the catacombs beneath the library. She’d used the library as a student, but never had call to visit the archives, which were off limits to most students anyway.

From the curatorial office on the main floor, a clerk led her down a corridor lined with old portraits then to a thick, heavy door that opened onto a stone staircase. As they descended, Karigan thought it looked like it belonged to a construction older than the upper levels, but no scent of mustiness or decay met her as they descended. The updrafts were cool and clean without a hint of moisture.

When she reached the bottom step, she found herself in a low-ceilinged stone chamber held up by rough granite pillars. A labyrinth of shelves laden with tomes and manuscripts and scrolls and crates extended deep into cavernous shadows where no lamp was lit. Muffled voices emanated from somewhere beyond rows of shelves.

“I’ll see if I can find Lord Fiori for you,” the clerk said.

While he set off on his search, Karigan hopped onto a stool at a worktable, which was covered in curling maps. They looked to be ancient and fragile, so she did not dare touch them, but the top map, mottled brown with age, showed Sacoridia divided into small chunks, illustrating not provinces, but clan territories, and there were plenty of them, far exceeding today’s twelve provinces. The landscape had changed little over time, but those who claimed it and drew boundaries on maps came and went with the politics of the day.

The return of the clerk, accompanied by both Lord Fiori and Estral, drew Karigan’s attention from the map. The ceiling was so low that the top of Lord Fiori’s head brushed it. She slipped off her stool and bowed, and the clerk excused himself.

“We wondered when you’d be up and about,” Estral said, smiling.

“It took me a while to locate you.”

“And so you’ve found us,” Lord Fiori said. “What do you think of our archives?”

Karigan didn’t really know what to say. The archives were not precisely what she expected. They contained the breadth and depth of Sacoridia’s history and culture, a precious collection she expected to be displayed in some magnificent hall surrounded by the best works of art. Not buried in this…this root cellar. Well, the floor was smooth marble and not quite dirt, so maybe not a root cellar.